The Next Level Is Real
by Rashaka
Summary: Judging by her Level 67 Elite Warrior rank and accompanying Master Metals Armor, the hundreds of quest achievements and the well-established farm back in her home village, you'd never realize that Allison Victoria Argent has had the worst year of her life. (Allison/Derek post 3x04: Angst, mistaken identities, video games, spite, and forgiveness ensue.)


**Prompt:** Allison and Derek meet via a roleplaying game online.

**Spoilers:** Though it begins pre-series, most of this story is set very firmly after episode 3x04, just following the point where Derek scares Isaac away.

**Rating:** Hard **M** for mature.

**Notes:** _Gladiator _is Derek's favorite movie. Allison's favorite book is _The Hunger Games._ I only watched Teen Wolf this month, and I've read a bare handful of fics. So I have no idea what the general fanon is for these characters, just what I've gotten from the show. The guild that both characters belong to is a direct nod to the web series The Guild, which everyone should watch right now because it's hilarious. Somewhere around the 4,000 word mark is a reference to the Buffy musical episode. Good hunting!

* * *

.

**The Next Level Is Real**

.

Allison got _Bright Legends_ for the Christmas of 2010, when her father had a bout of concern that his adolescent daughter not be limited by gendered toys when she already had too many pink iPods, pink laptops, and pink hair curlers. She played it twice on her computer, but one afternoon the case fell behind her nightstand as she was changing into her archery gear, and Allison never mustered a desire to rescue it.

In 2011, she found the game while packing up for the move, and tossed it into her desk drawer.

The same night that she met a cute boy with shaggy dark hair, Allison's cousin from Florida called to say that _Bright Legends_ was offering a free MMO upgrade special to any previous game owners, and Allison had better register for this A-fucking-SAP so they could chat about celebrities while killing spider-ogres. So Allison dug out her old CDs, made a web account, and started her first online multiplayer game.

Species: **Human**

Classification: **Mercenary**

Weapon: **Long Bow**

She hated it. Her fingers got cramped from running town to town using the up arrow, and the "Helpful Map System" left a little too much open space to the imagination. There also seemed to be an aggressive learning curve; if she wanted to keep up with other players Allison had to memorize the point system, learn to arrange her skill tree, combine weapons and lessons to get new skills, and also figure out the economic system embedded in the game. Then she needed to figure out all the ways that players exploited the banking system to cheat. On top of that, she had to put up with her cousin's patronizing explanations of gamer terminology, until one day Allison quit the national server and joined a guild on the server for the Northern California region. She'd only interact with players within a hundred square miles of her zip code, and never listen to another capslock rant about One Direction.

By the time Allison Argent's life went insane and she saw her aunt torturing a naked man in the world's scariest basement, she was already that most uncommon of species: a bona fied teenage female gamer. It wouldn't have surprised a counselor to see that as the danger in Allison's life escalated and the pillars of her world crumbled, her investment in _Bright Legends_ and its social microcosm escalated.

Be a hunter, Allison. Be a student, Allison. Be a girlfriend, Allison. Be a good daughter and look the other way when your parents lie, your friends lie, and your mentors lie. Pretend it's okay that your enemies know more about your destiny than you do.

Pretend it's okay to be seventeen years old and have enemies at all.

Summer approached, terrors plagued her family, and Kate—who was always strong and pretty and brash as the sunrise—died to protect her neice. Wolves came and went. As part of her summer reading Allison skimmed Shakespeare for the third time in as many curriculums. The boy she loved turned out to be a Montague, but if Aunt Kate was Tybalt then the werewolf Mercutio should've been dead along with her. Instead, he strode about town in a brand new alpha suit while Romeo was cursed forever.

His name was Derek Hale, and Allison hated him for being Kate's victim almost as much as she hated Kate for disappointing her.

.

***  
.

Lights blinked on her LCD screen, and Allison returned her attention to the game. A wizard healer stood by the entrance to a cave, waiting with a full MP bar.

Maximus1991: **wanna pwn this candy mountain demon or not?**

She bit her lip, then clicked on the "Party chat" function.

District13Girl: **not in the mood. **

Maximus1991: **dun quit on me D, ur the only merc in this guild i like to quest with.**

District13Girl: **kind of had a bad week max.**

Maximus1991: **mine wasn't Hearts an dandelions ei ther. what happnd to You?**

District13Girl: **  
**

District13Girl: **I had a fight with my boyfriend, and a relative passed away.**

There was moment's pause while the two avatars stood by the cave and Allison's chat box was a bleak, dark expanse of nothing. She almost asked if he was still there when the reply appeared.

Maximus1991: **My sincerest condolences. Was it a grandparent?**

District13Girl: **No, but it was bad. lot o drama. they want me to see someone about my heart-crushing sadness.**

Maximus1991: **probly better therapy than playin Bright Legs.**

District13Girl: **maybe but I like it here. people only want one thing: to get to the next level. **

Maximus1991: **u don't realize how relevant that sentence is to my life, D. kinda freaky.**

District13Girl: **well i told you mine?**

Maximus1991: **too long. full of misery. if i tell you the whole thing then i'm just another sad sack with a tragic backstory talking to a girl who could really be a hairy old man**

District13Girl: **dude i told you that i watch vampire diaries. hair old men watch HBO.**

Maximus1991: **so you say. if we're not gonna rob the candy demon then i gotta crash**

District13Girl: **me too. night. **

Maximus1991: **l8r.**

Maximus1991: **  
**

Maximus1991: **  
**

Maximus1991: **hey D.**

District13Girl: **wat? **

Maximus1991: **I'm really sorry all that crap happened to you. I wish I could tell you in person to feel better. I hope you have someone to be there for you.**

District13Girl: **i know. thanks for saying it. now go to bed before i get saltwater on my keyboard and bill you for a new one.**

Maximus1991: **Good night.**

.

***  
.

Judging by her Level 67 Elite Warrior rank and accompanying Master Metals Armor, the hundreds of quest achievements and the well-established farm back in her home village, you'd never realize that Allison Victoria Argent has had the worst year of her life. She has lost, in order of malice: her mother, her aunt, her relationship with her boyfriend, her mother, her friendships, her grandfather, her mother, her trust in her dad, her mother, her safety, her favorite bow, her mother, her mother her mother _her mother._

Beacon Hills was a terrible place and Allison almost became a terrible person, but this was America and she was seventeen and if she wanted to, she could do better. She would do better. No more Romeo, no more conspiracies, no more time wasted ignoring her best friend's calls for help. Allison would win something this year, and it would be something great.

"What does all that have to do with hacking some dude's MMO account?" Danny frowned from behind the school computer. "Are illegal activities the new trend in redemption arcs?"

"Please, please _please_," begged Allison. "I've been playing with this one guy for a year and I think I wanna meet him. He's the only friend I have who isn't connected to my family drama or this town and I just—I just—you've seen those _Catfish_ episodes. I don't want to try unless I know he's not a serial killer."

Danny smirked, and said, "What if he's an old lady with cats?"

"I like cats," she retorted, "And old ladies love me."

Muttering "I don't know why you think I'm the one to help," he faced the monitor and opened a browser page. "I'll give it a shot."

Leaning over his chair, Allison asked "What are you doing?"

"Googling 'How to hack a_ Bright Legends_ ISP'. Which, I should point out, you could do at home yourself."

"This is better," she assured him, and squeezed his shoulder.

It turned out _Bright Legends_ was notorious for keeping the poorest personal security strategy of any massive multiplayer online game created in the last decade. Two hours of Googling and code-scanning led them to an ISP for the level 74 Elite Wizard Healer known on the local server as Maximus1991. Another half hour of research and Allison had the physical address where that ISP last accessed the network. She read the email again on her phone, mouthing the words as she sat on her bed that night.

08/28/13, 10:17 pm, accessed wireless network of 24 Hr Starbucks, 187 Main Street, Beacon Hills

08/29/13, 10:42 pm, accessed wireless network of 24 Hr Starbucks, 187 Main Street, Beacon Hills

09/03/13, 11:01 pm, accessed wireless network of 24 Hr Starbucks, 187 Main Street, Beacon Hills

09/05/13, 10:36 pm, accessed wireless network of 24 Hr Starbucks, 187 Main Street, Beacon Hills

09/06/13, 10:44 pm, accessed wireless network of 24 Hr Starbucks, 187 Main Street, Beacon Hills

Allison didn't know Maximus1991's real name, or his address, or how many cats or grandchildren he had, but she knew that after half-past ten tonight someone would sit down at table or a booth in the Starbucks just two miles from her house. He or she would dig out his or her laptop, plug in his or her charger, slip on his or her headphones, and log on to the Knights of Good Guild Forum, leave a party notification, and then start chasing mountain trolls. Sometime after eleven, Allison would also log in, receive the party invite, and instantly appear in time to take out the bael-troll sneaking up on Maximus1991 from behind.

He would probably hate her for finding him, she knew. He—if he was a he—would name Allison a stalker and a creep and worse until Allison, who might start crying on the spot if yet one more person left her, inevitably ran out of Starbucks with a broken 3 and crawled back through her bedroom window, desperately praying that he didn't call the police to arrest her and Danny.

Yet he was up there, right now, a wizard with a blinking 'online' user icon, and Allison realized that she wanted to speak to her friend Max in person more than she wanted to sleep, shower, or play that _fucking _game.

.

***  
.

Allison entered the Starbucks at the intersection of Main and Palos Verdes with her hair tucked under her dad's old baseball cap and her body swathed in a humongous P. E. sweatshirt. She approached the counter, ordered an iced mocha frappucino, and used her peripheral vision to scan the patrons. From where she could see, there were two professional women sharing a double-table and a loaded discussion about car listings. To their right sat an old man in scrubs nursing a hot drink. No one had computers out, though the professional women had clearly brought their bags. Allison knew the customer tables stretched around to the other side of the condiments bar, as did the tall shelves of souvenir mugs. When her drink arrived, she thanked the barista, took a few sips for bravery, and began the long walk of no return.

When she stepped beyond the stand of signature coffee packs on sale for the troops overseas, Allison saw the last customer of the shop. He sat alone, facing a laptop where green landscapes and magical bursts flickered in quick progression. Since his back was to her, Allison couldn't guess his age, but something in his shape looked young. Broad shoulders, a thick pale neck with corded muscle, and uniformly dark clothes made him look like some kind of 90's hitman. He hunched those same shoulders inward so much that Allison wondered if he got back aches from all the hours in game.

His hair was short and black as the rest of his attire. While she watched he reclined in the short wooden chair, stretched, and changed his screen to the Knights of Good homepage that listed all guild members currently logged in. He ran two large, masculine hands through his black hair and gripped his neck like he was in pain. Goosebumps skittered over her skin, and the frappucino cup felt too cold in Allison's grip.

A tiny spark coiled in the space between her eyes, then a matching fire burst to existence in her chest. Allison took three deep breaths. She was conscious of the baggy clothes meant to 'disguise' her and the lack of any significant weapon except the crossbow in the car outside. She took another two breaths, plucked a plastic knife from the condiment bar, and advanced. Her sneakers made little squeaks on the floor, but the black haired man was still buried in his headphones. Allison's face flushed red as she practically leaped the last three strides around his table, slid to a stop in a noisy squeak of the linoleum, and found herself standing before Derek Traitor Still-Living Mercutio the Incompetent Alpha Fucking Hale.

He stared at her over his laptop, silent in the face of her inclement fury. With careful deliberateness he removed his ear-buds and set them beside the computer. When she said nothing, just stood there quivering under the bright yellow lights of the Starbucks, Derek's gaze narrowed.

"What happened? Where's Scott?"

Allison threw her frappucino at him.

"Fuck!" he shouted, grabbing his laptop and yanking it out of danger. Ignoring Allison, he laid it over his jacket so the coffee would run off, swore again, then rounded on her. White beads of liquid dotted his eyebrows and his shirt was soaked. His red eyes could have burned her alive, and he growled from across the small table.

"I'm sorry all that crap happened to you, Dee," Allison snapped. "I wish I were there in person to tell you to feel better."

The werewolf's face screwed up like someone stuck listening to a sermon on the radio when they'd been hoping for the news, and he stared at her dumbstruck. She snarled, "I hope you have someone there for you. I wouldn't have killed this dragon with anyone but you. That new armor is a waste of silver. Let's go rob the candy demon one more time for shits and giggles. It's going to be okay, trust me. Trust me, Dee."

Derek's mouth dropped open, and he stepped backward. His hands came up as if he could physically repel her voice.

"What's the matter, _Max_? Don't you know me?" Allison circled the table, and for every step she advanced, Derek retreated. "Wasn't that the whole _point?_ I tell you my aunt died, and you say you wish you could comfort me in person. I tell you that Scott and I are over for good, for real, and you tell me how better off I am without him. What'd you get out of it, Derek? Another way to hurt us?"

"Allison," he choked, so rough her name broke on his tongue. His whole massive frame shrank under the bright lights of the coffee shop, and his legs hit another table as he backed up. The alpha crimson bled away until those infamous heartbreaker green eyes stared at Allison with a combination of beseechment and horror. "This is—I didn't—"

"I told you that my mother was gone, and you said you were _sorry_."

"I didn't know it was you," he rallied. "Of course I wouldn't have—"

"You're _not_ sorry about her!" Allison interrupted. "Not my mother _or_ Erica. You're not anything! You can't heal us with a wave of your magic wand and you're not half the alpha Scott is. You won't even protect Lydia by getting rid of Peter because you're too busy playing _house_ with him. Not when it's easier to use all of us in your petty, manipulative games!"

Allison felt her logic fraying even as she shouted at him. Derek could be a villainous mastermind who spied on her emotional state, or he could be merely an exploitative asshole, but he should've been flaunting it either way. He shouldn't have waited to numbly receive her diatribe. This was not the man who'd been on her campus days before, pointing fingers and assigning blame like hateful little gifts. Derek Hale the alpha werewolf was strong and he was _mean_. He shoved people around and told them how to live their lives. He infected others whenever it suited him and if that was't enough then he taught them how to turn rage into violence. He killed people. He killed mothers.

The guy in front of her just looked like he wanted to be sick. Wordless, he glanced between her and the wet computer. Allison's breath sped up and her fingers ached from clenching her fist around the plastic knife. She waited for him to move. She waited for him to attack.

Derek closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he nodded at her, pivoted to snatch up his jacket and his laptop, then made a beeline toward the green EXIT sign.

Her stomach dropped, and she shouted his name as the glass swung shut. He kept walking, absorbed into the night. Allison finally noticed that several Starbucks customers and two baristas were staring at her with fearful expressions.

"Sorry for the mess," she sputtered, and ran between the tables to bang past the double doors and out into the darkness.

.

***  
.

Allison refreshed the Knights of Good home-screen, glazed eyes skimming the list of online players ready to be invited for group quests. Her message box was filled with useless promotions for in-game upgrades and notes from the guild leadership. There was nothing personal in there; no one had messaged her specifically in the last two days.

She didn't know why she thought he'd be online when some screaming girl had splashed a mocha frappucino on what was probably his only laptop. Hugging herself, Allison got up from her chair and began to pace the small floor of her room. After a few minutes spent chasing ideas back and forth, she put on her jacket and told her father she was heading to Lydia's. Thanks to Scott she already knew where to find Derek's new place, and when she knocked on his door it was almost eleven at night. Just like old times.

Derek must have heard her, or smelled her, because he opened the door with his war face on.

"What?" he snapped. Allison looked past him to see an empty expanse with few lights and no sounds of life.

"Where's Isaac?"

Derek's face got even darker as he said, "I forced him out days ago so the alpha pack wouldn't find him. Ask your ex if you're suddenly concerned."

Allison let this jibe go; she was on speaking terms with Isaac again and no pithy remarks could taint that. "What about your sister?"

"I don't control where she goes. What do you want, Argent? Come to serenade me again?"

Swallowing, Allison began her speech. "What I said in Starbucks, about the game—"

"Keep it," he interrupted. "You can have the game, it's yours. Take the whole internet. Just stay away from me and I'll try to stop ruining your life."

"Is that really all you have to say to me?"

Derek lunged half out of his doorway, body language rigid with tightly coiled strength. When he spoke his words sounded less like an apology than an accusation. "Yes, Allison, I'm _sorry_. I'm sorry that I bit your mother when I escaped with Scott. I'm not sorry that a threat to my pack is gone, but I'm sorry for what it did to you. I'd put up with her murder attempts if I could take back that night for all of us. I was sorry when you were just some sad gamer who lost her mom, and regardless of your opinion I'm still sorry now."

In the hallway, the heir to the Argent clan met his stare while she measured the sincerity of his declaration. She'd never heard Derek say so much in a single breath before. When she opened her mouth to respond, he shook his head and slammed the door between them.

Feeling a shudder run through her limbs, Allison touched the wooden surface and curled her nails against the grain. She leaned her forehead on the door, inhaling slowly. That had gone just as horribly as their first meeting, and she wasn't even sure what she wanted from him anymore. Steeling herself, Allison tried the doorknob. In his haste to tell her off Derek had forgotten to lock her out, and it rotated smoothly under her palm. She pushed the door open to follow him inside.

The fearsome werewolf of her nightmares lived in an industrial space that had been converted after the fact to a make-shift apartment. He sat in a chair near a card table with some old coffee mugs on it. His head rested on his fists with his back hunched over, but when he heard her entrance his face shot up and his eyes gleamed under a hint of red. Allison approached with caution, keeping her hands visible at her sides.

Speaking with calm this time, she said, "You might be done talking, Maximus Nineteen Ninety-One, but I'm not."

Derek's alpha glow faded completely, but his expression was affronted when she grabbed the second chair at his side of the table. Taking his silence as tacit ascent, Allison folded her hands in her lap. "I've spent close to nine hundred hours on this game," she began, "And more than half of those hours were with you."

"I didn't think I'd end up interacting with someone I know personally; the odds on it are...I'd need Lydia here to even estimate. So when Maximus, became my friend, I thought it was safe to share stuff with him. As long as I kept out the specifics, it was liking having someone I could tell all my thoughts and feelings without worrying that one word too many would get my friends or family killed."

Across the short space between them, Derek picked her apart with his glare. Since he wasn't kicking her out, Allison dove all in.

"There were days when the game was the only place where I was able to exert control in my insane life," she admitted, "and Max was the only person who had no expectations for me. I didn't have to be an Argent, or the lacrosse star's girlfriend, or the shameful secret everyone knew about anyway. Even more than that, I liked talking to you. I liked the way you cussed at other players with unnecessarily long words and veiled history slams. It was easier to fight bosses if you were in my party, and it got to the point where I didn't want to play the game by myself if staying up a little later meant I could play with you."

She twisted her fingers together in her lap, and held his gaze with a sad quirk of her mouth. "I wasn't stupid enough to completely idolize you. You're just as selfish in the game as you are in person, you know. I hate the way you always take the loot first, as if I wouldn't give you half anyway. And it didn't take a genius to recognize your damage. Whenever the subject came around to family, I knew something huge had happened to you. You had lost people, the same way I did. Maybe much worse than I did."

Over the course of her confession, Derek's expression had shifted from indignation to a reserved distance. She wondered if he was waiting to see this play out with the same anxiousness that she was, but here in his apartment he wore a face she barely knew.

"I used to dream about talking to you," she continued. "Meeting you, getting to know you. Everyone says not to invest in online relationships because it always ends in disappointment, but I had this fantasy that here was someone I could talk to. Someone who wanted to see me, would listen to all the dark and scary parts as much as the good parts. I thought someday, if I was brave, that I could tell this stranger _everything _and he would understand."

With glacial slowness, Allison rose from her seat. "I had all these scenarios for how it would go down...what I'd say if you were old, or if you were another girl I could be friends with, or even if you were a little brat staying up past your bedtime. Yet I was sure that if you were the person you claimed to be, then I wanted to know you. I might have even wanted more."

Testing the limits of all that was safe or sane in her life, Allison moved until she stood directly in front of Derek's chair. His legs were sprawled open in that way that certain men always occupy chairs, and Allison stopped between his knees. She had entered the cage of the monster, and he need only close his limbs to swallow her up entirely. He kept his arms crossed in front of him when she bent over, even when she raised her hand.

In a whisper, she said, "I didn't realize, that night, that I was taking away your friend too."

Like reaching to pet a wild animal, Allison placed her palm against the side of his cheek. For a moment she was certain she could feel his pulse beat beneath her finger tips.

The tableau held, then Derek turned his face away from her touch, a rejection as cool and jagged as Allison had ever received. Her fingers coiled around air and she nodded. She leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the spot where his cheekbone met his brow. "I'm sorry," she murmured, and withdrew.

Out of his space, out of his apartment, out of the silent black hole that was Derek Hale's life.

.

***  
.

It was Saturday, three days after causing a scene in a Starbucks that she'd now have to avoid until she turned thirty or maybe thirty-one. Lydia had gone home to fight with her parents, Scott was playing host for Isaac, and Allison's pathetically short list of friends was insufficient for combating either her ennui or that feeling in her abdomen that she swore was not self-pity, or heartbreak, or anything else stupid and childish.

She logged into _Bright Legends_ because that's pretty much all she did when she wasn't studying or saving her ex from his arch-enemies. She may have avoided the game all day, but the clock was pushing midnight and by this point even a wave of crushing disappointment sounded better than doing nothing. With only a reading lamp to keep her awake, Allison opened the MMO browser, typed in her username, and watched a bustling medieval village bloom around her avatar. No sooner did the LOADING bar reach one hundred than a chat box appears on the top of her screen.

Maximus1991:** hi.**

Allison almost fell off her bed in her scramble to sit up straight and reread the message. It sat, real as blue pixels, waiting for a reply. Hesitant, she typed the most intelligent response her brain could muster.

District13Girl:** hi.**

That didn't seem like enough, so she added:

District13Girl:** i thought you quit**

Maximus1991:** no this chick broke my computer so i had to get a new one. takes 4ever to install teh data packs from scratch.**

District13Girl:** sounds like a real asshat**

Maximus1991:** i deserved worse. i'm not a nice person irl. i was nice as a kid but since then it hasn't worked out.**

District13Girl:** Have you tried apologizing? That's my new thing.**

Maximus1991:** i probly should apologize for lots of stuff. i could make you a list.**

District13Girl:** I don't want that list right now**

Maximus1991:** what do u want? **

District13Girl:

District13Girl:** I want to see you **

Maximus1991:

Maximus1991:

Maximus1991:** Ok**

_Maximus1991 has left the chat._

Allison slammed the top of her laptop shut and put it on the stack of books near her hamper. Then she ran back across the room to sit on her quilt and stare at the computer like it was venomous.

She was still watching it a moment later when something knocked on her window. It was loud and she jumped at the foreign direction of the sound. Snatching up her letter opener—a five inch boning knife—she advanced on the window. With delicacy she unlocked the catch and stepped backward.

Gradually two hands pushed the window open, and a leggy shape in a gray t-shirt and black jeans unfolded to make Derek, erstwhile gamer and the most intense person Allison had ever met.

She watched him, unsure what to do with her hands. As if reading her mind, he caught sight of the boning knife and raised his eyebrows. Closing the distance, Derek reached out and plucked the blade from her limp grasp. He examined it, hefting the light-weight handle, and Allison felt a blush of professional chagrin as she realized this one was from her kitchen, not her arsenal. She wondered if he knew the difference.

Derek tossed the knife onto her desk just as she blurted, "Were you sitting in your car using our wifi?"

"No," he denied.

She tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "But it's been like three minutes since you logged off."

"I was on your neighbor's," he admitted. After her skeptical pause, he added, "Yours was locked."

"Okay, that makes sense," conceded Allison. "No one else uses passwords on this street. It's practically a net neutrality protest."

Instead of replying, Derek's gaze roamed boldly over her room, her floor, and her body. Allison thanked the universe that she'd put on a tank top and cotton shorts instead of her sushi pajamas. When he noticed her noticing his stare, she deliberately appraised him as well. The alpha werewolf—because it was impossible for Allison Argent to see him any other way, even standing in bedroom—had muscle definition that Scott and Stiles wouldn't get for a few years yet. His monochromatic style exaggerated his physique, and when Allison met his eyes again her mouth felt dry.

He asked, "Did you want me here to talk about wifi?"

She wet her lips. "No."

With deliberate show, he stepped close and lifted his hand to her cheek. He kept it there, mirroring the arrangement of the previous night, and waited.

Allison exhaled.

Derek dropped his other hand to her waist, tugged her front flush with his, and caught her mouth in a kiss. It was hot and teasing, over almost as soon as it started. He pulled back to check that she was still with him, green eyes intent on her reaction.

"Oh _yeah_," she breathed, and wrapped her arms around his neck to yank him down for another. With a rumble in his chest that could have been a growl, Derek hoisted her up as her long legs encircled him. He held her muscled body-weight like she was no more burden than a wisp of air caught between his palms; Allison scraped her fingers over his scalp and squeezed her thighs around the angled jut of his hip bones.

Their tongues fought for dominance but when they hit the bed Allison wound up on top, digging her knees into the quilt and grinding her cotton shorts against the friction of his jeans. Derek ran his hands over every inch of her he could touch, from her acres of bare leg to the strip of vulnerable skin between her shorts and the hem of her top.

With a grunt, Allison pulled on his shirt until he surrendered, leaning back and helping her peel it up. Her own followed just as hastily, and Derek added the flesh beneath to his dominion as well. He palmed her breasts and ran his tongue up the valley between them until he stopped to suckle her throat while Allison arched against his hardened erection.

"Pants," she gasped, scratching her fingers in zig-zags across his back. In answer, he flipped them, bouncing Allison into the mattress with his hand safe behind her head. He tried to kiss her and shimmy out of his jeans at the same time, but the zipper caught Allison had to help him yank it down. When she realized he wasn't wearing briefs, her whole body froze because some things were just a little too real for a seventeen-year-old.

"You're not wearing underwear."

Derek lifted his mouth from the spot below her chin and glanced down as if to double-check. He shrugged, caught her skeptical expression, and clarified: "I don't go to the laundromat very often."

A thousand weird notions about men living alone in creepy apartments burst through Allison's psyche, and in her nervousness she spilled the worst one.

"Do you _shower_ very often?"

Derek reared back and even though his expression implied she'd called him the most horrible insult known to mankind, his hard-on was still waving for attention.

"_Yes_," he snapped. "Is this a prejudice thing? Like a dog joke?"

"What? No. _No._ Oh god, that's not what I meant."

"I showered this morning," Derek said, and leaned forward again, this time to inhale the scent near her collarbone. Allison wanted to question that but she was distracted by the feel of him making small circles on her thighs. He leered. "_You_ haven't since yesterday."

She tried to remember if Scott had ever been so open and shameless with his werewolf abilities between the sheets. That line of thought was a distraction, and she cast it aside. "Stop sniffing me," she protested, her voice hitching when his fingers dipped over the waistband of her shorts.

"But you smell better than anyone or anything I've seen in months," he murmured, and the shiver this declaration sent through her was enough to have Allison lifting her hips and sliding her shorts and panties off. When his fingers found her apex and curled inside, Allison flopped back on the bed and arched against him. Her legs twitched with little jolts and quivers as his mouth lapped at the top of her folds. She grabbed the sheets and then grabbed his hair, only the trace memory of not being alone in the house keeping her from shrieking when he sucked her clit in counterbalance to the grind of his thumb and forefinger. When the tide hit she rode it out under his constant attentions. Derek carried her through every quaking moment, and when he climbed up the bed to kiss her again she tried to taste herself on his tongue.

She felt for his cock, slipped on a condom and brought the hardness of it to rest against her core. When he ducked his head into the crook of her neck and whispered words against her skin that she couldn't hear—didn't want to hear—Allison raised her body, opened her legs wider, and welcomed him inside.

The sex was long, intense, and at times overwhelming. Maybe a different girl would have been more prepared, but Allison had only been with two other guys, both of whom had been virgins before her. Her first time was awkward, and she'd broken up with the boy soon after. In contrast, making love with Scott was a stream of joyous discovery. Every time they were together they'd learned something new about themselves and what they wanted from a partner. It was all things safe, warm, and exciting.

Being with Derek was like diving into the deep end of the pool; his form wasn't perfect but he'd obviously been doing this a lot longer than she had. He used every part of his body at once, not content to touch Allison in one place when he could be touching her in three and kissing her besides. His confidence bolstered her own as he urged her to take what she wanted any time she wanted it. Derek liked direction: a caress here to slow him down, a pressure there to bring him in harder. Before they were done she knew that his favorite view was the sight of her atop him, rolling against his cock while he gripped her butt-cheeks. Allison rode him like that until she was exhausted from the sheer physicality, and then she let him bounce her up and down until his eyes screwed shut and he wrapped his whole self around her in a desperate, enveloping cocoon.

When they lay on the sheets much later, she considered telling him this was the best sex she'd ever had. She was naturally honest with intimate things, and the urge was like the cheerful desire of one drunk person to go around telling everyone how drunk they were, and for how long, and who had helped them get there. Yet at the same time, the idea of that sentiment leaving her mouth to Derek Hale was so terrifying that Allison buried it far back in her subconscious. She chose instead to tuck against him, dropping small, casual kisses where her face rested on his chest. They talked a little, nothing brilliant or interesting. Sometime during the conversation Allison's eyelids dropped shut and she slipped into NeverNeverland, sharing her sleep with another person for the first time all summer.

.

***  
.

When she woke again it was still night, but the moon had dropped behind the hillside and there was a soft, flickering glow to her right. Flopping over in her bed, she was startled to observe her former enemy huched on the floor with his back against the mattress and a shiny new laptop balanced on his folded knees.

Frowning, Allison crawled over, grabbed a lock of that inky jet hair, and yanked his head back to meet her gaze upside down. Unfazed, as if her grip were nothing more to him than a kitten pawing for attention, Derek whispered, "What? Did I wake you?"

"Are you logged in to _Bright Legends_?" she asked, though she could already see his wizard avatar paused on the bridge above a waterfall castle.

"I haven't genuinely logged in for three days," he whispered. "Your connection is really fast, and I wanted to kill as many gorgons as I could before the weekend bonus points—"

"I'm not mad you left the bed you dick," she hissed. "I'm mad you didn't invite me!"

At loss for a reply, Derek pulled her down for a tongue-heavy kiss, and Allison had seen _Spiderman_ enough times that part of her melted at the act, even if it was probably unintentional. When they let each other go Allison located her lost tank top and and a new pair of panties, plugged in her computer charger, then settled next to Derek on the floor. The luminescent glow of their dual screens bathed the room in artificial moonlight, and where their knees touched she felt tiny goosebumps rise to tickle her skin.

**WELCOME BACK, DISTRICT13GIRL.**

YOU ARE AT THE GATES OF CASTLE GALIF.

HP: 3700/3700  
MP: 400/400  
Items: 0

_Maximus1991 has invited you to join his party._

District13Girl: _**ACCEPT**_


End file.
